


this is why we don’t do surprises anymore

by LadySilvertongue



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dorks in Love, Fluff, M/M, They Suck at Surprises, Valentines Surprise, no beta we die like marco, silly texting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 01:21:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29411160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadySilvertongue/pseuds/LadySilvertongue
Summary: All Bertholdt had wanted to do was surprise his boyfriend for Valentine’s Day. Really, that’s all he wanted. Instead, they’re now approximately eight-hundred and forty kilometers away, horny, and without each other for company.In which Bertholdt and Reiner both try to be cute, but still mess it up anyways.
Relationships: Reiner Braun/Bertolt Hoover
Comments: 8
Kudos: 42





	this is why we don’t do surprises anymore

**Author's Note:**

> So I saw this particular pic on my feed— it’s a Twitter (?) sc about a couple celebrating the fourth year of when they tried to surprise each other by visiting each other, and then thought to myself OSMFKEM HOLY FUCKING SHIT THAT IS SO CUTE I GOTTA REIBERT.
> 
> And well. Here we are.
> 
> I am shameless.
> 
> Happy Valentines :)

**Bertholdt**

As soon as Bertholdt gets off the plane, he thanks whatever deity he can remember that the torment is finally over.

One could say that he’s being overly dramatic, but he really doesn’t care for getting his legs cinched to the point of needing amputation, being seated between the window and the isle, and having terrible luck with the people seated around him. The woman by the window seat had kept getting up every ten minutes to go to the bathroom, and the man to his left had been sleazy and reeked of the cheap complimentary spirits they had offered once the plane had taken off. 

Seriously, what kind of airline offers alcohol at eight in the morning?

Still, both of those things could’ve been tolerated, if not for the kid seated behind him. A pair of earphones and a book couldn’t exactly block out the sharp jolts from the kicks that had been directed to the back of his seat. Bertholdt had frowned at the adults accompanying the brat when it was time to get off, but he doesn’t think the message went through. 

The cool, crisp air of the airport in Berlin knocks the irritation from his system, though, and giddiness replaces it as an image of Reiner’s reaction floods his mind. It’s only been a week since he’d left, after all, and Reiner isn’t expecting him back for another four days. He decides not to rush to head home yet—knowing Reiner, the man had probably overslept or lazed around and is only just getting ready to leave.

It’s only half past eleven in the morning anyways. Plenty of time to get the apartment ready once Bertholdt gets there.

He chuckles to himself as he remembers the conversation he’d had with Reiner during their video-call last night.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

**The evening prior...**

“So, what should we do for tomorrow evening?” Bertholdt asks, only half paying attention to the movie they’d decided to co-view, his eyes instead locked on the slight toustle of Reiner’s hair. It’s getting longer again, and frames his chiseled face rather nicely. It reminds Bertholdt of his look when they’d been younger boys. “It kind of sucks that we can’t spend Valentines in the city of love.”

Reiner pouts at the camera, running a hand through the object of Bertholdt’s attention. The little strands stubbornly refuse to spike upwards, tickling at the skin of Reiner’s forehead instead.

“Well, since my boyfriend so callously left me and refuses to come home, I’m going to watch tragic love stories and jack off to him reading Pablo Neruda.”

Bertholdt flushes a little, both at the reminder of that awful, awful recording he’d given the man /years/ ago, and at Reiner telling him he’s going to get himself off on it. 

“You wouldn’t,” Bertholdt challenges after a couple of seconds. “You wouldn’t taint the purity of that memory.”

Reiner sighs, “You know me too well.”

Bertholdt chuckles, “I’ve only known you since middle school. Don’t sound too surprised.”

“What do you want to do tomorrow?” Reiner asks as he straightens up.

The blankets and pillows the man had been hogging get dislodged, rewarding Bert with a full view to his boyfriend’s sinfully sculpted chest. Reiner’s neck is also looking scandalously bare—which Bertholdt knows is a good thing, but damn, what he wouldn’t give to claim that free real estate with sucking bruises. 

“Bertl? Your connection okay?”

Bertholdt starts, licking his lips as he meets Reiner’s eyes through the screen. The blonde smirks as he realizes Bert’s been on the entire time. 

“Ogling me, are you?”

Bertholdt blushes, rolling his eyes. 

Who wouldn’t? Reiner is the most handsome man Bert has ever had the pleasure of knowing—he’d been the very man that led Bertholdt to his gay awakening. 

“I know you miss me,” Reiner teases some more, craning his neck and running a hand over his jaw, down to the dip of his collar. Bertholdt swallows audibly—Reiner does the same, and the movement of his Adam’s apple makes Bertholdt’s gut zing with sudden libido. “Been keeping it nice and clean for you.”

“You better have,” Bertholdt grumbles, pulling his knees to his chest and wrapping his own blanket fort closer around him. “I wish you were here.”

Reiner softens, “I know. Me too. Just a couple of days more though, right? Tell you what, tomorrow I’ll grab some lunch at Stohess, and I’ll cancel with my clients for the afternoon so we can be on call for the rest of the day. We’ll have a nice candlelit dinner, you go to that restaurant you’ve been dying to try there and I’ll have the next best thing, and we’ll stay on call while we eat.” 

“But you won’t be here,” Bert whines. “I want both of us to be here when we try it. You know, so you can actually try it. It won’t be the same.”

“I didn’t hear you say no to the video-call or me canceling with my clients.”

“Idiot, I know you already canceled,” Bertholdt snorts. “I’m not the only one that’s gonna be aching for something they can’t get to.”

Reiner’s smirk returns, this time it’s more than just teasing, though. Bertholdt doesn’t know how he does it, but Reiner is a master at making himself look sultry and just… fucking sexy and suggestive. He doesn’t even need to take out his dick or move the camera over his abs, or his groin—he just smirks and Bertholdt turns into putty. 

Horny putty.

“Reiner…” he says warningly, and the blonde throws his head back and laughs. Bert buries his face behind his hands and groans. “You’re terrible.”

“You love me.”

“I do,” Bertholdt sighs.

“And I love you,” Reiner calls back. Bertholdt lowers his hands and finds the other smiling at him dopily, and wonders again just how exactly he’d managed to deserve this man. “I’m gonna marry you one day.”

Bertholdt sucks in his lips and bites them to keep from grinning like an absolute idiot. “No take-backsies.” 

“Never,” Reiner says resolutely, looking every bit as serious as he does when he’s trying to prove something. Bertholdt’s entire body fills with warmth, and his heart does a happy little flip that threatens to break his ribs when the other man says again, “I love you.”

“I love you, schatz,” Bert answers. “We’ll see how it goes tomorrow.”

Reiner nods, and they fall silent again, as they watch the rest of the movie—or Reiner does, anyways. Bertholdt doesn’t remember falling asleep, but he does remember waking up, and panicking all the way to the airport thinking he’d be missing his flight. 

It’s only when he’s seated in the plane that he opens the messages Reiner had left him after he’d dropped off.

**From: Schatz ♡**  
**10:47pm**  
You look so fucking cute when you’re asleep. Well, you’re fucking adorable when you’re awake too, but damn. I miss waking up with your drool on my shirt.

 **10:47pm**  
Getting a foot shoved right into my face, though? Yeah, not so much.

 **10:48pm**  
That was a lie, I miss everything.

 **10:53pm**  
I’ll stare at your face for a little bit longer.

 **11:02pm**  
I wish I could lean over and kiss you right now. You are so fucking perfect.

 **1:28am**  
I’ll drop the call now before I fall asleep again. I love you. I miss you so fucking much. See you soon, alright? I’ll call again tomorrow asap. Goodnight, and goodmornimg! Love you 🐻 

Bert composes his own flurry of responses.

**To: Schatz ♡**  
**8:12am**  
Good morning! Sorry, I didn’t realize I was so tired. I miss your snoring too. And how clingy you are. I miss my big spoon :(

 **8:12am**  
You watch me while I sleep? Reiner that’s creeeeeeepppyy.

 **8:14am**  
You love it when you wake up with a face full of my butt, don’t lie.

 **8:14am**  
Ignore that—I’m going to be embarrassed about it later when I’m more awake.

 **8:17am**  
I think you’re still snoozing, I’ll let you sleep some more. I love and miss you too. Lots and lots. Gonna head out and grab bfast. I’ll be waiting for that call! See you soon ( ˊᵕˋ )♡ 

Bert tucks his phone back into his coat pocket, smiling to himself. Sooner than Reiner will be expecting, anyways. 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

It’s empty when Bertholdt lets himself into their apartment, and he breathes a sigh of relief as he hurriedly gets to work.

He sets up the table, just a bouquet of simple flowers, rests some fancier-than-usual red wine in a bucket of ice to chill, plates some sliced sausages and cold cuts, and a cheese sampler, and sets the chocolate truffle cake for them to share in the fridge. When he’s satisfied with that, Bertholdt heads to their bedroom next to tidy it up there too. After all, if everything goes to plan, they’re going to need it, and Bertholdt do so loves having sex on clean sheets. It’s barely even one in the afternoon when he finishes up and settles on the couch to wait for Reiner’s call.

By two thirty, Bertholdt has taken to lounging, checking his phone every couple of minutes. He doesn’t even pay attention to the flick he’d put on to pass the time, just anxiously tapping on his phone every now and again, and sending messages every now and again too. 

When the clock strikes three, Bertholdt starts debating on whether he should call the blonde or not. Surely he should’ve come home by now, right?

Why hasn’t he been answering the messages? 

Why hasn’t Reiner called yet? 

Why hasn’t he /come back home/ yet? 

Just as he’s about to dial Reiner’s number, his phone buzzes with a message.

**From: Schatz ♡**  
**3:02pm**  
Please, please, please tell me you aren’t home at the apartment.

At first, Bertholdt is confused, and then he’s thoroughly terrified, blanching and feeling weakness overtake him.

Reiner… how had he…?

No… the real question would be, why wouldn’t he want Bertholdt at the apartment?

Before he can start to overthink, another message comes through.

**From: Schatz ♡**  
**3:03pm**  
Oh my fucking god, Bertl.

 **3:04pm**  
Please say no. Please. Oh my fucking goooooooooooddddddddddd!!!!!!!

 **3:05pm**  
Pleaaaaassseeeee noooooo!!!!

 **3:05pm**  
BERTHOLDT HOOVER YOU DID NOT!!!!!!!!!

 **3:05pm**  
BERRRRRTTTTT NOOOOOOOOOO!!

Bert frowns, starting to type out a response, but never gets to send or even finish it when his phone starts vibrating with a call. He lets it ring for a while, heart jack-hammering inside his chest, then takes a deep breath and accepts. The request to allow for a video feed pops up instantly, and Bertholdt accepts that too.

Reiner’s face fills the entirety of the screen, and he… well, he doesn’t look guilty per se. But—but! Bertholdt doesn’t know what the expression is.

“Please tell me you aren’t in Berlin,” are Reiner’s first words.

“I’m in Berlin.”

“Bertholdt!”

Bertholdt hears someone’s laughter in the background, and his insides instantly ice over. It sounds like a woman’s laughter. It sounds familiar, too. He feels tears prickle the corners of his eyes.

“Is there someone else?” He asks, hating how shaky his voice is. “Is that why you don’t want me home?”

“Bert, I—wait… /what/?!”

“There’s someone else, isn’t there? Is that Historia? Or what’s-her name—the girl you said was cute and—“

“Bertholdt Hoover, oh my /fucking god/,” Reiner says, sounding exasperated. He looks away towards his right, addressing someone else. “You better get over here before he starts panicking.”

Bert feels his dread mount, and then instantly dissipate when Pieck peers over Reiner’s shoulder with a wave, looking thoroughly amused. It leaves him in a confused stupor until his brain catches up to him all at once.

“You’re in Paris.”

“No shit!” Reiner groans, and Pieck’s laughter—because of /course/ that was Pieck, how could Bertholdt not have recognize her laughter?—suddenly makes sense.

“Oh my fucking god! Get back on a plane and come back here right fucking now! I had the entire thing planned and I—fuck I even got a reservation, and we were gonna eat at that fancy place, and then I was going to take you out to that lock bridge or whatever that you were talking about so much, and we were gonna have the most mind-blowing sex because I’m sending Pieck away for that play and-and-and- Bertholdt Hoover! Why the hell are you all the way back in Berlin?!”

It suddenly makes sense now too, the expression on Reiner’s face, and Bertholdt can’t help himself.

He starts laughing, and these are not just the quiet chuckles he usually only reserves for Reiner, either. No, this laughter is the kind that has him shaking and wheezing, the kind that makes his sides and his chest hurt, makes him look like he’s having a fit as he falls over sideways and starts sounding like a dying hyena. The tears that had formed from a feeling of betrayal earlier now spill over his cheeks because of mirth, and soon enough he hears Reiner’s laughter too, which sends him over the edge again. They quell and quiet, only meet each other’s eyes and go into another bout of hysterics.

When they both finally manage to stop, Bertholdt is sweating and his entirety feels lax, as though he’s just had a hit from some top quality weed. His face seems permanently encased in a grin, too.

“I hate you so much,” Reiner whines, “Bertholdt, why?”

“Hey, I went through all the trouble too, don’t go pouting. And how was I supposed to know you’d brave a two hour flight without me?” Bert chuckles.

A swell of adoration for the blonde fills him enough to drown out any other feeling he might’ve had. He could’ve been told some devastating news at that exact moment and Bertholdt still would’ve only felt his affection for Reiner. The fact that the man had endured his fear of flying just so he could come and see Bertholdt makes him fall in love even more with his big dummy blonde of a boyfriend. It makes him feel guilty for assuming the worst earlier too.

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re terrible at surprises,” Reiner groans.

“No, I meant... I mean,” Bert feels the guilt break through the bubble of sweetness even further. “Earlier. I thought... when I heard the laughter and you were saying stuff like you didn’t want me to be here...”

Reiner’s face goes all soft, his eyes gentle and his smile never wavering, “Duh, of course I wouldn’t have wanted you to be home. I understand, though, I would’ve been more worried if you hadn’t reacted that way.”

“Sorry,” Bertholdt says sheepishly, looking down at his lap, mouth pulling down at the corners. “I—“

“Bertholdt Hoover, I love you, it’s really nothing,” Reiner sighs, fondness dripping from his voice as Pieck says something in the background. “Pieck is offended, by the way. You didn’t tell her at all?”

“She can’t keep a secret even if her life depended on it.”

“I heard that! You’re on dish duty forever when you visit again!” Pieck calls, and Bertholdt shakes his head, mouthing ‘never visiting her ever again’ to Reiner. 

“God, I should’ve just told you that I was coming over,” Reiner groans, pouting again. The expression is adorable, but it doesn’t take away from the fact that Bertholdt is drooling over Reiner’s impeccable getup. He looks absolutely ravishing, and it’s obvious he’d dressed himself to look irresistible. Bertholdt feels an acute sense of loss that he can’t tear into his boyfriend and have a hot make out session right about now. “Ugh, Bertl, why? Why’d you have to subject us to this torture?”

“It’s like you said, we’re terrible at surprises,” Bertholdt says with a chuckle, “I was looking forward to this too, you know. I even got us some cold cuts. Cheese sampler, too. Red wine. Flowers and chocolate cake. All the pizzazz. We were supposed to have a real fancy snack before the main course.”

Reiner raises his brows suggestively. “And what would the main course have been?”

“Me, of course,” Bertholdt blurts out. His face feels hot, and he can see in the corner cam that he looks exactly as he’d expected—bright red.

Reiner’s eyes widen in surprise, then quickly turns into a sly smirk, “Oh, that’s fucking sexy. Let me just book a flight real quick.”

Bertholdt sighs, “Don’t be silly. Rates will be crazy expensive, and you might as well enjoy Paris for however long you’ll be staying there. Might as well take Pieck to that dinner reservation, too.”

Reiner shakes his head, smiling. “Nah, I told her to go with Porco. The first memory I’ll be making at that place is gonna be with you, Liebling.”

“Schatz,” Bertholdt answers, almost automatically. “I want to cuddle with you so bad, though. You look amazing, by the way.”

“So do you. This has been hilarious, but I’m disappointed I won’t get to worship you tonight,” Reiner says dramatically, “fuck, I was so fucking eager to be making out the moment you answered the door. Imagine my face when it was Pieck standing there. Do you know what she said to me when she realized I was standing there?”

Bertholdt snorts, “What?”

“She told me my dick was going to be so disappointed! My dick is always contented when it comes to you—how dare she.”

“Sounds like her,” Bertholdt laughs. “I miss you even more now, though. God, we’re so stupid.”

“We are.”

“Stupidly in love.”

“Yeah. Marry me?”

“I will,” Bertholdt answers with a smile. “But on one condition...”

Reiner raises an eyebrow, “I’m not going to let you adopt an eagle, Bertholdt.”

“Let’s not try to be cute and surprise each other anymore. I’d hate to admit it, but Pieck is right. My dick is going to be really disappointed tonight.”

Reiner barks out a laugh. “Alright, agreed. Anything else?”

“I’ll convince you about the /falcon/ another day,” Bertholdt says cheekily.

“Uh huh, sorry, falcon, eagle... all the same to me, and same response: only in your dreams,” Reiner answers right back. He sobers some, and the screen goes dark when the blond brings his device close for a kiss that Bertholdt aches to feel. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Liebling. Go eat some of our entrees and then we’ll see how we can have that main course over video-call, hm?”

“Ugh. You’re terrible.”

“You love me.”

“I do,” Bertholdt heads back over to the kitchen and pours himself a glass of wine. “And you love me.”

“Duh, we’re getting married, aren’t we?”

“We are.”

“Good. Wait for this time, please.”

“I will,” Bertholdt chuckles, sipping on his drink. “No more surprises.”

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

Early the next day, Bertholdt wakes up to a trail of kisses being left on his shoulders up to his neck, then just behind his ear. Familiar hands are kneading into his back, under the shirt he’s got on, fingers splaying on either side of his spine, over his ribs, sliding underneath to his sternum and collar.

“You’re wearing my shirt.”

Bertholdt turns over and wraps his arms around Reiner’s neck, eagerly accepting the open-mouthed kisses the other is giving him. The blonde’s lips are warm and sweet over his own, and Bertholdt doesn’t dare open his eyes lest he break the dream.

“I’m not a dream, you sappy dork,” Reiner chuckles.

“You’re here?” Bertholdt asks sleepily, stifling a yawn.

“Right here,” Reiner answers, kissing his cheek, then his forehead, then back to Bertholdt’s lips. “Fuck, I’ve missed you.”

Bertholdt hums and peers up, staring at Reiner’s face with his radiant smile. The top of his head is haloed in weak sunlight, making the blonde locks gleam like an otherworldly crown, and the soft shadows casted by dawn only serve to bring out the man’s features. His tawny, honey eyes, a small hint of crows feet, his strong jaw, even his blocky nose.

“You’re so pretty,” Bertholdt sighs happily. “Like… a pretty bird. A falcon. Majestic. Very pretty.”

Reiner snorts, “Right, scoot over, Shakespeare, lets sleep in.”

Bertholdt can only indulge, and when Reiner’s warmth presses against his back, their legs tangling, he feels right at home. The blonde’s arm circles around him, and Bert brings the man’s hand up to his face, kissing his palm, snuggling even further into the embrace.

“Love you,” Bertholdt sighs, sinking back to sleep.

“Mmh,” Reiner hums. “Love you too, Bertl.”

“No more surprises.”

“No more. Promise.”

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

**[Extra, you guys get to decide if this actually happens in this fic or not because I’m not sure about it lol]**

**Two years later**

“Liebling, I have to tell you something. You have to promise not to get mad.”

Uh oh.

“Okay… what is it?” Bertholdt stares, gut twisting in eager anticipation. There aren’t /butterflies/ in his stomach—there’s a flock of perigrine falcons. Eagles and hawks, owls and ospreys, and every other hunting bird known to man in there. It’s a bloodbath. Butterflies are a lie. “Reiner?”

The blonde looks nervous.

“I’m going to… no… I broke a promise I made to you a couple of years ago.”

Bertholdts mind races. 

A promise?

What kind of promise?

What promises had Reiner made to him in recent years?

The blonde pulls something out from his coat pockets and gets down on one knee. Bertholdt feels himself freeze.

“I know I promised no more surprises but… Bertholdt Hoover, marry me?”

“No fucking way,” Bertholdt says. Reiner’s hopeful face crumbles, and Bertholdt registers his own words. He just shakes his head and cracks a laugh because… because /really? “I mean… I just—“

He pulls something out from his own coat, a velvet box that’s a stark contrast to Reiner’s own classy black one. When Reiner sees it, he mimicks Bertholdt’s sentiments and ducks his head as his shoulders start shaking. Bert gets down on both knees too and cups Reiner’s face in his hands, kissing the man as they dissolve into giggles.

“We’re idiots,” Bertholdt laughs.

“Engaged idiots?”

Bertholdt nods, “Yes. Yes, for as long as you’ll have me. Engaged idiots, and then married idiots.”

As if he’d have it any other way.

**Author's Note:**

> Again, happy valentines and I hope y’all enjoyed :))


End file.
